His forehead drops to rest against mine, our breath mingling, eyes locked as he fucks me with devastating patience. This close I can see the ring of gold trying to break through the black of his pupils, can see every expression flicker across his face—concentration, pleasure, something softer that makes my chest ache. His scent is stronger here, filling my lungs with every breath, and I want to drown in it.
Each thrust sends his cock dragging over that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes. Each withdrawal leaves me clenching around nothing, desperate and empty, craving the next stroke. The weight of him above me is grounding, real—those wide shoulders blocking out the world, those powerful arms holding him steady, that broad chest brushing against my breasts with every movement.
"I think about this constantly," he says, hips rolling in a rhythm that's driving me slowly insane. "The way you feel wrapped around my cock. The sounds you make. The way you look right now—" He groans as I clench around him. "Flushed and desperate and so fucking beautiful."
"Rhystan—" His name comes out half-moan, half-plea.
"I know." He speeds up slightly, his cock hitting deeper, harder. "I know what you need."
His hand slides between our bodies, fingers finding my clit—swollen and throbbing, so sensitive that the first brush makes me jerk against him. He circles it slowly, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, building the pleasure in overlapping waves that climb higher with every stroke.
"That's it." His lips brush my ear, breath hot against my skin. "Let me feel you come on my cock."
The orgasm crests and breaks over me like a wave—not the violent crash of heat-driven release, but something deeper, sweeter, rolling through my body in long slow pulses. My cunt clenches around his cock in rhythmic squeezes, milking him, and I hear him groan against my temple as my pleasure triggers something in him too.
"Fuck—Kess—" His rhythm falters, hips stuttering. "The knot—I can't hold it?—"
"Don't hold it." I pull him deeper with my legs, refusing to let him retreat. "Give it to me. Fill me up."
He drives forward and the knot forces its way inside, stretching my entrance wide around the thick bulge at the base of his cock. The pressure is enormous—I'm being pried open, stuffed full, impaled on more cock than should fit. The knot swells even larger now that it's seated, locking us together, grinding against something deep that makes my whole body shake.
Then he's coming.
I feel the first hot pulse of his cum flooding my depths, feel his cock jerk inside me as he empties himself in long spurts. His claws prick my hips—not breaking skin, just holding on, anchoring himself to me while the release tears through him. Another pulse, another rush of heat, and another, until I can feel the pressure building inside me, nowhere for it to go with the knot sealing everything in.
"So much," I gasp, feeling my belly tighten with the sheer volume. "You're giving me so much?—"
"Take it." His voice is shattered, desperate. "Take all of it. Want to fill you until you can't hold any more?—"
He keeps coming, keeps pumping me full, his cock twitching with each new spurt while I clench around his knot and milk him for everything he has. By the time he finally stills, I feel stretched to bursting, stuffed with cum, so full that every tiny shift of his hips makes me moan.
Then stillness.
Both of us breathing hard. Both of us trembling. His weight settles over me, heavy and warm, and I find I don't mind it. Don't feel trapped. Just held.
He shifts carefully, gathering me against his chest without pulling on the knot, and rolls us onto our sides so we're facing each other. His arms wrap around me—one beneath my head like a pillow, the other draped over my waist, his palm spread warm and possessive across my lower back. I'm tucked againsthim, surrounded by the furnace heat of his body, his heartbeat thundering against my cheek.
Inside me, the knot pulses with each beat of his heart, keeping us locked together. Every small movement shifts his cock, sends little aftershocks of pleasure rippling through my oversensitive flesh. He's still so deep, still filling me so completely, and every breath I take I feel him.
"Stay," I whisper against his chest. "When the knot goes down. Stay with me."
"As long as you want me." He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his lips warm against my hair. "I'm not going anywhere."
His hand strokes up and down my spine in slow, soothing passes. I let my eyes drift closed, let myself exist in this moment—wrapped in his arms, full of his cock and his cum, safer than I've felt in years.
The bond hums between us—quieter than it should be, somehow thinner, but still there. Still connecting us.
The heat builds and breaks three more times before dawn.
The second wave hits an hour after the knot finally softens and slips free. I'm barely conscious, drifting in the warm aftermath, when the fever surges back through my blood and I'm gasping, reaching for him, desperate all over again.
He takes me from behind this time—positions me on my hands and knees and mounts me like the beast he is, his chest pressed hot against my back, his teeth grazing the nape of my neck. The angle is different, deeper somehow, his cock hitting places inside me that make me scream into the pillow. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me steady while he drives into me with a rhythm that shakes the bed frame.
"You feel so good like this," he groans against my shoulder. "Taking my cock so well. Made for me."
I come twice before he knots me again, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as he floods me with another rush of heat.
The third time I ride him.
